


Compliance

by versigny



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, First Time Blow Jobs, Rough Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 08:29:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11893893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/versigny/pseuds/versigny
Summary: It’s not that Wonwoo doesn’t want a blowjob, is the thing – he does. Very much so. It’s that he wants ittoomuch.





	Compliance

**Author's Note:**

> 8)

Wonwoo takes a deep breath that goes straight to his already-dizzy head and makes him feel even more nauseous than he had been just a minute ago.

“But you… really, really,  _really_  don’t have to do this.”

It’s the 13th time he’s said it, you think. You didn’t want to count, but he was making it hard with all the  _insisting_  he was doing, as if he was somehow doing you a favor by trying to convince you that  _you_  didn’t want to do this.

Nothing he does will convince you otherwise, though; not now. It’s half past nine and he’s snuggled up in your bed, looking like some sort of old painter’s young masterpiece with his dark hair and indolent eyes and mild, sleepy smile. It’s almost hilarious seeing him snuggled under your childhood quilt and stuffed animals. He’s wearing all black as usual and it’s a miracle that he hasn’t been cast on the street for a modeling position yet.

And he’s just, here, in your bed, cheeks hinting at a pale pink as he splutters and his voice gets lower, and rougher. Because he isn’t sure if he’s okay with  _you_  being okay with giving  _him_  head.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he persists, biting his lip in vague frustration. He can’t quite look at you, not when you’re folded limply beside your bed, arms resting under your frustrated pout and gazing up at him with restrained determination.

“But I want to,” you remind him, picking at a loose thread. You really, really don’t want to back down. Ever since he got here, looking the way he did, you had swallowed down your shame and guilt and fought your humiliation with your bare hands because, fuck, your boyfriend was really hot, and no matter how embarrassed you were it couldn’t beat your desire to suck him off. The thought was nothing sort of mortifying, but for him, for you, you wanted to put it aside and do this.

“Okay,” he says, and pauses for a beat. “But you still don’t have to. I–”

“Wonwoo, it doesn’t matter.”

You have to bite the bullet and just do it. It’s not that Wonwoo  _doesn’t_  want a blowjob, is the thing – he does. Very much so. It’s that he wants it  _too much_. It’s that he’s afraid, in some small way, of hurting you, or going overboard, or you hating it and then hating him by extension. Except none of that matters because your mouth is watering and all your stupid, sordid heart wants is for him to cum down your throat.

So you take a deep breath, steel your heart, and raise yourself up onto the bed with him.

“What are you doing?”

Once the blanket is shoved out of the way, you crawl between his thighs with your face on fire and blood pounding out white noise in your head. It clogs out your nerves a little, and you steadfastly don’t look at him and don’t answer his question because you think you might lose your courageous streak if you do.

“Babe?” Wonwoo croaks, and your teeth chew softly on your bottom lip as you reach out with tentative fingers and grab the waist of his pants.

“Move,” you mumble, and begin drawing them down firmly but carefully.

Wonwoo is too stunned to protest. Or maybe he’s just finally giving in – you hear him sigh, like a tired old man hanging by a thread, and then his hands are shakily helping your own. He drags down his underwear and your eyes are suddenly rapt at the contrast of the pale skin of his belly and the faint trail of hair that runs down, down from his naval to where his hemline vanishes and then, amongst the curls, the rigid, rosy length of his dick begins. He’s twitchy and his cock springs up, back against his stomach and all at once you feel so much desire it’s practically nauseating.

“Oh my  _god_.” You don’t even realize the faint, squeaky moan came from you until Wonwoo chokes on his own spit when you start leaning forward. Your entire universe hyperfocuses on him and nothing but him, and the thick scent of his heat and how it’s going to taste on your tongue as soon as you get your lips around him.

Wonwoo shifts, clearing his throat awkwardly. You vaguely catch a glimpse of him folding his hands over his mouth and nose like he’s trying to hide, except his eyes are locked on you with wide, shaky pupils and from the sound of it his breathing is very even – too even. Too deep, like he’s trying his fucking hardest to control it himself and not succumb to whatever emotions are writhing up inside of him.

You want desperately to know what he’s thinking, but you can’t and you won’t so you just tuck your hair behind your ears shyly and wrap your mouth around his tip.

The air changes instantly. You feel Wonwoo tense up as he sucks in a hiss and breaths out a long, trembling sigh with his eyes screwed shut. Jaw slack gently, you dip lower, drawing your lips down his length with a light pressure that leaves a thin coat of your saliva along the way. Eventually he’s too much; you’ve never done this properly to a guy before, and when the squishy head hits the start of your throat you hiccup and find pause, just drooling around his hardness and trying to adjust to the size of him.

Wonwoo tastes as tangy as you’d expect, but what you didn’t anticipate was his scent making you  _dizzy_. Pleasantly so. Your head was swimming in an obscene cloud of lust and his musky fragrance, and, fuck, you wanted more. You wanted to do more. As the first strings of spit begin collecting in his tufts, you suction around him, eyes shut to savor it, and slide up. Your tongue laps against the underside the whole way, back and forth, rolling over the bulbous vein that runs right down the center until you’re suctioned around his head again and sighing happily.

“ _Fuck_ ,” you hear from above you, tight and strangled and sounding nothing like Jeon Wonwoo at all. His usual low rumble is gone, replaced with something breathless and whimpering, and a quick peek shows that he hasn’t moved a muscle. Literally. Wonwoo is taut as a crossbow, and looks like he can’t even enjoy himself because he wanted it too much to begin with, shaking like a leaf.

You want –  _need_ to make him relax. If try harder, maybe, you can get him to forget to be so keyed up, so you swirl your tongue around him and make pleased noises, like you’re enjoying your meal gratefully. You toy with his slit, emboldened by the way he jerks and groans hoarsely, hands still clamped tightly over the lower portion of his face and cusses muffled into his palms.

Wonwoo definitely, absolutely doesn’t want to move, except he does. You want him to, too, and before you can think too much you take a deep breath, look up through your eyelashes and ask with a mouthful of cock, “Doth ith fill good?”

Wonwoo’s flinch wider at your words, and then he looks queasy. But he just nods in rapid succession and from between his laced fingers you can see his mouth twisted into an agonized smile as he restrains himself from begging you  _not to fucking stop_.

But you want to hear him say it.

“Wonooo?”

“ _Christ_ ,” he laughs manically, the single note in his voice cracking instantaneously as he pries his hands away from his face to clutch at the sheets instead. “ _Fuck_. God,  _puhh_ … p- _please_ don’t stop.”

The sensation he elicits in you is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. It’s like a thousand lights going off all at once, under your skin like a Christmas tree and with all the tingling of cinnamon sugar and just enough heat to stoke an inferno in your core. You have the overwhelming urge to get teary-eyed and thank him, graciously, for just existing as he is, followed by a more raw and unfiltered want to keep making him feel however he felt right now. Wonwoo being pleasured, and proud of you, and happy,  _fuck_ , all of that was making you wet enough on its own, and with only a tad too much enthusiasm you swallow him down again and start a fumbled tempo of bobbing hungrily on his cock.

“Fuck, fuck,  _fuck_ –” Wonwoo chants, trying to catch his breath as he fists the sheets and moans. You can feel the muscles in his abdomen clenching as his precum smears against your tongue, still trying to restrain himself, and you redouble your efforts because you really don’t want him to hold back at all, anymore. If fucking your mouth made him happy, then you’d gladly let him use you whenever he pleased. It takes a second to figure out how to really seal your reddened lips around him tightly and let your cheeks tighten around him, but once you do the reaction is immediate.

“Y-you… you unbelievable, ridiculous, g-girl–!  _Nnnnghhh_ , fuckin’… I-I don’t know if… I can… Fuck, baby, I-I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t–”

In no small amount of anguish and frustration and desperation, you shake your head with a rampant  _nononono_ , open-mouthed running the flat of your tongue up his cock with aching slowness as you stare pleadingly into his eyes. You don’t know what you have to do to show him how badly you need whatever he has to offer, and this time when Wonwoo laughs again, broken and weak, something bright in his eyes dies, snuffed out like a candle. The worried tick in his eyebrows smooths out, and a thrill that has you sopping between the apex of your thighs rushes down your spine like smothered electricity comes with it.

“Alright,” he whispers, softly and sweetly. “We can do it your way.”

With careful strength, his fingers weave into your hair, and then take handfuls tightly. Your scalp pulls with a dull sting, radiating through your body with warmth, and you moan onto his cock as he adjusts enough to place your mouth right where he wants it and he cranes down close, too fucking close, right above your head.

“Open wide,” he purrs, and you obey just in time for him to start fucking your mouth.

He mostly disregards the fact that he’s almost slamming into the back of your throat with every thrust, and the intensity of it has your eyes watering. You’re a mess of tears and drool and flushed skin but your insides are throbbing and your heart is going a thousand miles per hour, sloppily so, and can’t bring yourself to care that you’re whimpering with pleasure at your boyfriend using you like a fucking toy.

“Good girl,” he croons, breath hitching midway, “good, good girl. I knew you could do it. You have the loveliest fucking mouth, and it’s going to be prettier once my cum is splattered all over it like ice cream. ‘Nd then I’m gonna fuck it back down your throat, and you’re gonna swallow for me, huh, princess? Because you love me? You wanna make me  _haaa_ … h- _happy_ ,” he swallows here, throat dry and parched, and runs his teeth over his pink bottom lip with satisfaction and a wicked fixation. Wonwoo watches every single motion and expression you make with utter fascination, and just when you think you might gag he draws you back, cementing you to the very tip and giving you a tiny reprieve. Or so you think – you go cross-eyed watching him spit onto his cock, relubricating it with a crooked smirk before pumping it back into your waiting mouth once more.

“You’re really not half-bad at this,” he chuckles dryly, and you squirm, thighs slick and jammed together as you try to gain some sort of friction on your own. “I think you spend so much time pretending you’re a prude when you’re really the most perverted of them all. What would your friends say if they saw you like this? Fuck, I can’t even begin to i-imagine…  _nnnfggh_ … ff _fuhh_ … I-I can… practically smell how wet you are from here… I– o-oh,  _fuck_ –”

You’re busy somewhere between trying to touch yourself without falling over and wondering, mesmerized, at how this boy might have just almost made himself start cumming from his own obscene language when he goes rock-solid in your mouth – which you didn’t think was possible, he was so hard already – and his fingernails scrape against your roots. His hips rut in short, uneven bursts as he loses himself to the feeling of your mouth and his grip begins slipping as his pretty words turn into gasping, warbling pleas of your name over and over wantonly. On one rough thrust that actually makes you choke and splutter around his cock, he freezes and clings to you as a loud growl tears through him and you suddenly feel heat pooling in spurts against your throat. Wonwoo comes in splattered ropes of slippery cream, and he’s whimpering as you unconsciously, unsurely leave tiny licks against him with the tip of your tongue and groan back.

When you realize his seed is mixed with your drool and threatening to spill past your lips, you squeeze your eyes shut and try to swallow around him – it works, but it also makes him rattle out snarls of pitched, lilting curses that have you clenching around absolutely nothing. You swallow again, and this time he can’t take it and tugs hard on your hair in warning, but the pain is deliciously good and you just smile apologetically, peeping open with one wet eye tiredly on him.

“Succubus,” he rasps, but you blush when he leans down and kisses your nose anyway. Finally, he draws himself out of you, only just beginning to soften up. He’s incredibly gentle when he does, and when your mouth is suddenly empty you can’t help the hollowness that wells up in you with it.

“Here. I’ll clean you up, baby.”

You blinked sleepily, head swimming between exhaustion and the thick, distracting arousal that blanketed your body, and were stunned when you felt the texture of his sleeves wiping gingerly against your chin, your cheeks, your mouth.

“I’m a big idiot,” he murmurs, cracking a self-deprecating half-smile. “I bet you don’t feel so hot right now, huh? I’m… gonna make you tea, though. And we’ll get you in the shower later. And I’ll write you a five-page apology.”

“But,” you cough, abruptly seized with panic and oncoming heartbreak at his change of tune, “b-but Wonwoo, I– I-I… You… Thank you. F-for cumming in my mouth. I’m, um, glad, you did that, and I’m still just… r-really turned on, I promise th-that’s why I look like hell r-right now, it’s not–!”

“ _What?_ ”

Wincing, you swallow the remnants and draw your hands up to rest on his shoulders, look him in the face properly.

“Th-this is the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever said,” you whisper, heat rising to your face at a distracting rate and temperature, “but I really just wanna cum.”

Wonwoo blinks once. Then, he goes slightly slack-jawed, and you watch his pupils blow wider.

“Oh.” He says. Then, with patient, steady hands, he grasps your waist and sits you right down on his thigh and smiles.

He bounces it just once, and the jolt that runs from the contact on your clit almost knocks you out.

“Well, get going.”


End file.
